


A Brief Scene from a Sequel to "the Grudge."

by Tammany



Series: Irene's Rise, Mycroft's Fall [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Faint whiff of incest repressed and never examined., M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tammany/pseuds/Tammany
Summary: This is a very short scene I find I like, from a longer attempt at a sequel to "The Grudge" I do not like. Yet.Mummy, having learned Mycroft's new residence, comes to check on her less favored son and let him know he needs a keeper: what ensues when she learns he has one already.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Irene's Rise, Mycroft's Fall [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803475
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	A Brief Scene from a Sequel to "the Grudge."

Mycroft’s mother watched him move naked around the beautiful old butler's flat, cleaning and tidying, before coming to lie at Greg’s feet. Her expression was unreadable.

Greg found himself curious. “A penny for ‘em,” he said.

She gave a crooked smile. “I was certainly never able to train him to be so useful—or to stay still. Or to shut up. I hear you manage both of my boys well. I’m tempted to ask your secret.”

“For Sherlock—I refer you to John. For my pet, here?” He considered. “Ask him. I’m curious to hear his answer myself.”

She met Mycroft’s eyes, as he lay on the floor, his chin resting on hands that lay, dog-like, just in front of his chest. She showed no discomfort, only demanding curiosity. “Well, boy? What does he do to make you into a useful member of society?”

Mycroft glanced up at Greg, and murmured, “Sir?”

“Answer her, Mikey.”

Mycroft gave a vast, bitter huff and scrambled up to sit, dog-like, on one hip, back legs angled so that his cock was revealed, with the pierced tip and the delicate fall of bells on chains. After a moment he met his mothers’s eye, challenging and bitter. “When I’m very bad he ties me up, whips my bum, and fucks me up the arse. Hard, mother. I scream and cry.”  
  
She clucked, and was about to respond, when Greg said with amusement, “Now tell her what I do to you when you’re good, puppy.”

Mycroft blushed scarlet, and looked down.

“Puppy…” there was hard warning in Greg’s tone.

Mycroft’s head hung low, and he was now blushing all over. “Sir…”

“That’s an order, Mycroft. And if you don’t want your mother see at least some of the other ways I punish a bad dog… No? You don’t? Then tell your mother what I do to you when you’re a good puppy. Just like you just told her what I do to bad puppies.”

Mycoft said, in a hoarse, shaking quiver, “You tie me up, whip my bum, and fuck me up the arse, sir.”

"Hard, puppy? Nice and hard?"

Mycroft's voice shook. "Hard, sir."

“You scream and cry, don’t you, puppy?”

Tears had begun to flow. “Yes, sir.”

“And do you beg for more?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s the difference between reward and punishment, puppy?”

“When I’m bad you call me a bad dog and you use me, sir. Even if you let me come, it's just for you. When I'm good..." he sighed, and his cock stirred and hardened where it lay on the oriental carpet, setting the little chained bells chiming. "You call me good boy, sir, and you let me watch your eyes while you enjoy me, sir. When I'm good, it doesn't matter if you let me come or not...because you're happy with me.”

Greg looked up at Mrs. Holmes, who had turned a fascinating shade of pink herself…though not as crimson as her son. He reached out and stroked his hand over Mycroft's bald patch, and gripped the back of his slim neck in a possessive, intimate grip. "Good boy, Mikey," he crooned, softly. "Good dog. No--no. Don't think of anything but that you're a good boy, Mikey. My good little bitch."

Mycroft gasped, still furious red from toes to scalp. "Yes, sir..."

"Whose good dog are you, Mikey?"

"Your good dog," Mike said, voice entranced, cock now hard as stone and dribbling. "Yours, sir."

Greg met Mummy's eyes. “Not much help I’m afraid, though you might try it on your husband, not your son.”

She nodded. “I might well at that,” she said, suddenly amused. “But it still leaves him useless when he’s not in your capable hands. What do you suggest I do about that?”

“Why--leave him in my hands,” Greg said, voice purr. “When I’m in charge I keep him…cooperating.”

“I’m sure you do,” she said, and studied her son with fascination. After a moment she said, “I suppose I should have made him spend more time in time outs, and less in a sensible spanking…”


End file.
